Only Human
by Debb
Summary: The bards sing songs of his deeds, to many he is a hero. To Sparrow himself, he is only a man, a man makes mistakes and a man is only human. Sparrow is a Hero and this is the price he pays.
1. Strangers

**Author's Note: **Dipping my toe in the water with some Fable 2 fic. Originally intended as a drabble and one of many, this particular theme spiraled into this. So may post the rest, if I get more done.

So constructive criticism appreciated.

First theme of the set: Strangers

**Strangers  
**

She was his daughter, he was her father. To Sparrow's daughter, they were strangers.

Her mother saw him first, a large, imposing shape standing two houses away from them. There was a bag on the ground next to him, an axe on his back and his coat was open, revealing his bare upper body, with faint, glowing, blue lines swirling over his stomach and chest. She didn't know how long he had been standing there, severe was how she would later think of him and at that moment, he scared her. Her mother stood rooted to the spot, staring at this man, this man who she did not know. The man approached her mother, she frowned and took her mother's hand. Her mother squeezed it then looked down at her, a smile on her face, tears in her eyes.

Her mother walked slowly towards him, let go of her hand and broke into a full run, throwing herself at the man. She merely stood at the front door, watching, like the spectator she felt she was in that moment. He caught her mother, lifted her from the ground and held her tight. Then her mother uttered the man's name, and in that moment she knew who he was.

"Sparrow," her mother said, as he put her down back onto the ground and approached her. Sparrow. Her father, the Hero. The one that her mother told her so many stories of, who had left them when she was small. She had no memories of him, nothing she could've held onto, like her mother did. He was merely a faceless shadow in the corner of her mind, there like a ghost, haunting her memories.

By now her mother and father were at the front door, her father watching her, his mouth hanging open slightly. He knelt down, raised a shaking hand and put it on top of her head. She ducked out from under it.

"Rose, say something," her mother chided. She pulled a face, she didn't like her name. She knew she was named after some aunt she had never met, however it had always sounded so old to her.

"Hello, are you my dad?" she asked the man, Sparrow.

He simply blinked then gave a hesitant nod.

She frowned then. "Can't you speak?"

That seemed to take him off-guard, as he lost the dazed look he had held moments before and raised his eyebrows.

"Rose!" her mother scolded. She cringed.

"Sorry Mum..."

She expected him to be offended by her blunt question, instead he laughed and it made her jump. His voice sounded so gravelly, nothing like she imagined. He was nothing like how she thought of him, if she were truly honest. She pressed on, undeterred by the lack of reaction she was receiving.

"Mum says you're a Hero, is that true?" she asked.

Once more, he only nodded.

"When I grow up, I'm going to be a Hero." She grinned proudly, hands on her hips, her chin lifted up and her shoulders back.

Her father's smile faltered, he looked away from her, a frown on his face. He stood up, offered his hand to her and shrugged when she ignored it and went back to her mother's side.

"You'll get sick of hearing that, she says it all the time," her mother told him. Her hand fell on her shoulder and she felt herself be pulled toward her mother. She looked up and saw the tears had returned to her mother's eyes. "You know what else she says?"

Her father tensed and shook his head.

"Is Dad coming home today?"

Her father flinched, as if her mother had slapped him, such an effect those simple words had on him. He swooped in, gathered her mother up in his arms and rested his head atop hers.

In that moment, she felt nothing but anger at him. How dare he hurt her mother. Too often she heard her mother crying, over him, because he wasn't there. She was angry she didn't have any memories of him, why couldn't he have stayed? She never understood it, not really, despite her mother telling her often that it was 'Hero business' that kept him away. All her other friends had their fathers there, why did she have to be different?

She pulled on her mother's apron to get her attention and opened her arms. Her mother knelt down to her level, hugged her then took her inside the house. Her anger returned when her father, the _Hero_, stood at the door looking every bit the lost puppy. It took him a minute to follow them in and stayed at the doorway as he shrugged off the coat he was wearing.

She could see him better in the light now. He wore a headband, his head bald which only served to make the scars on his face stand out more along with the eye patch. His coat was open, revealing his bare upper body and an old gunshot wound on his chest, almost hidden by the blue lines. He took off the axe, it was twice as large as she was with an ugly blade at the end of the handle. She couldn't help but feel fascinated by it, no one in Bowerstone owned such a thing, and some small part of her, was fascinated simply because it was something her father owned. He noticed her eying it then moved it away entirely, hiding it in a cupboard.

The three of them sat down at the table, her mother kept her gaze on her father as he looked around the house.

"You've redecorated," he said quietly.

Her mother sighed and nodded.

She watched her parents, her father rubbed the back of his neck, shuffling in the chair, unable to keep still. Then he did. He got up from the chair, walked to the window and stood with his back to them.

"Sparrow?" her mother asked.

"Shh."

"Don't you 'shh' me." Her mother glared at him. "It's Theresa, isn't it. You're going to leave." Her mother was on her feet in seconds, marching over to him. "You can tell her you're not going. You've only just got back! How cruel can you be? What happened to you in there?"

Her father shook his head. "No. No, Alex. I'm not..." he started. He took a deep breath, exhaled and opened his mouth to speak again. The words didn't come. They died on his lips and he could only shrug.

Her mother turned back to her. "Lou, go upstairs will you? While I speak to your father." It wasn't a question, it was an order, stated to be obeyed.

Her father frowned. "Lou? But Louise is..."

"I know. She prefers it."

Somehow even that seemed to hurt him. He said nothing more, his mouth tightening into a thin line and he turned to the window once more.

She did as she was told, leaving her parents alone to do whatever it was they had to. She went to her room, sat down with her books, her dolls and made herself busy as she waited patiently for her mother to finish downstairs. She didn't expect her father to stay, she couldn't imagine how things would be if he did stay. She was used to it simply being her mother and her, that was how it was. If her father stayed, what then? She didn't want things to change. She wanted everything back to how it was, back to this morning, when things were good, were normal. She threw her doll down and went over to her bed, curling up on it. She felt tears at the corners of her eye and scrubbed at them angrily, she didn't want to cry over this. But she did.

It was hours before her mother came up to see her, she still lay on the bed, blankets pulled up over her head. Her mother sat on the bed also and lifted her, blankets and all, then pulled her into her lap. They sat there, mother and daughter, her mother stroking her hair under the blanket while she simply lay there, the normalcy of it enough for her to keep her content. Suddenly and all too soon, her mother peeled back the blankets, left them on the bed and sat her up.

"He's not what you thought he'd be, is he?" her mother asked.

She shook her head.

Though her mother thought she didn't hear, she did. She felt like crying again when she heard her mother mutter, "Me too."

Dinner was awkward. She didn't speak, her mother tried to initiate conversation yet only received one word answers as Sparrow picked his way through the meal her mother prepared. She ate quickly, asked to be excused and returned to the safe haven of her room. There she stayed until hunger and her nightly habit of creeping downstairs and sneaking something out of the cupboard, forced her out of bed.

She got up, pulled on her slippers and moved quietly down the stairs. She didn't expect her father to be there, didn't expect to find him awake and sitting, hunched over in one of the chairs next to the fireplace. She thought to simply sneak past him. This idea was quashed when she stepped on a creaky floorboard then accidentally kicked one of her toys down the stairs. Sparrow was on his feet in seconds, the room glowing orange as a fireball appeared in his left hand, a gun materialising in his right.

Curiosity overwhelmed her. She'd never seen anyone do that before.

She let herself be seen, uncaring if he scolded her or not. That was her mother's job, not his. He relaxed slightly when he saw her scurry down the stairs and over to him, staring up at him.

Sparrow looked back at her. He was the first to break the eye contact when he looked around for her mother and she wondered if he would shout for her. He took a step back, gestured to the empty chair and went back to the chair he had been sitting in.

"What was that?" she asked.

He looked over to her once more. "What was what?" he replied, frowning.

"That fireball." She climbed into the chair and swung her legs idly.

"Magic."

"Oh. Can anyone do it?"

Sparrow shrugged.

They sat in silence, yet she noticed him glance over to her often. Eventually he spoke, "Why are you up anyway?"

"Got hungry. Why are you?"

"I couldn't sleep."

She got up from the chair and wandered over to the cupboard, moved another chair in front of it and climbed onto it. She opened the door of it, strained to reach the small bag of cookies that were in sight. It seemed her mother was onto her. She looked round when she heard her father get up from the chair also. Thinking nothing of it, she returned to the task. A shadow engulfed her from behind, an well muscled arm nudging past and retrieved her prize. Sparrow opened the bag, took one for himself and handed her the rest. Without a word, he left her, going upstairs and joined her mother, leaving her staring at the open bag in her hands.

Whatever words had been exchanged the day before, seemed to have worked in making her father stay. He wandered around the house, helped out when asked but for the most part, kept his distance. She caught him watching her, fascinated, and a few times he almost made a move to speak or to approach. Each time he would stop short of doing the deed and each time he did, she felt upset.

The days went by, her mother trying to bring father and daughter together, sending both out for shopping from the market. Each attempt failed, Sparrow saying not a word and she resenting him for it. To her, he still felt like a stranger, an unwanted guest that had long overstayed their welcome. She resented him and she resented her mother for her efforts. She grew sullen, moody, took any and every chance to get away from them both and to be with her friends, the only thing that hadn't changed.

That was, until her mother sent Sparrow looking for her when she was late home. As he came into view, the other children, once realizing who he was, all rushed to greet him, leaving her forgotten. They shook their autograph books at him, hopping up and down excitedly, all calling his name. She watched, then spun away from him, tears in her eyes.

Eventually, the crowd of children dispersed and it was only she and her father left. He offered his hand to her, she ignored it and marched on ahead of him. She heard him sigh and jog to catch up with her. She refused to look at him, and bypassed her mother entirely once they returned home. She heard her mother call her name, but she ignored it, Sparrow's voice drifting up a moment later as he explained what happened.

Her mother came to her later, dried her tears, held her and everything was all right again. Everything felt like it had before. She sat on her mother's lap, letting her mother rock her back and forth. She sighed.

"Mum, does he have to stay?" she asked.

Her mother stiffened. "Lou, he's your father, of course he does. You'll get used to him being her," her mother said.

"But I don't want him to. Why can't it just be us, like before?"

"You don't mean that."

She pushed herself away and looked up at her mother. "Mum, I don't like him. I don't want him here."

Her mother frowned at her. "Rose he's staying. He's your father."

"But..."

Her mother held up her hand. "Don't. I'm not arguing this one out with you."

She scampered away from her mother as if she'd just been scalded, curled up at the furthest part of the bed. "I don't want to get used to him," she muttered.

"You don't mean that," her mother told her firmly. She was now on her feet, arms folded, looking even more displeased than she had been a moment ago.

"I do mean it, Mum. It's not fair! I don't want him here!"

"Rose Louise, you take that back right now! He's here and he's staying and there's nothing you can do about it! So you'd better start getting used to it, as this is how things are now."

Her mother stormed out of her room and down the stairs. The dam broke and she buried her face in the pillow, sobbing wretchedly into it. She went still when she heard more footsteps on the stairs. She looked up and found Sparrow in her room, simply waiting for her to notice him. She threw herself face first back onto the bed.

"May I?" Sparrow asked.

She looked up once more and Sparrow was now standing beside the bed. She shrugged. The bed dipped when he sat down. He reached across and picked up one of the dolls that sat next to her pillow. He made a small 'hmph'.

"I bought you this one, before I left. I thought I should leave something for you, in case..." he trailed off, the unspoken words hanging in the air. _In case I didn't come back_.

"Mum said," she answered, her already quiet voice muffled by the pillow.

"Did you name her?"

She nodded. "Macy."

Sparrow said nothing for a moment, then put the doll back beside the pillow. He sighed. "I'm sorry I'm not what you expected."

She said nothing

Seeing he wouldn't get an answer, Sparrow left the room.

Two weeks later, she got her wish. Sparrow left on _Hero's business_. The discussion she watched from the shadows on the stairs. Her mother stared at her hands, her shoulders slumped and she refused to look at Sparrow. It wasn't until he lifted her chin to face him that she did look at him. He said something quietly to her that she showed any reaction to what he was telling her. She hugged him tight, he returned it. He looked over to her hiding place, she knew he knew she was there, yet she couldn't bring herself to see him off as her mother was doing.

He raised his hand to wave then he was gone.

It was a job he had left on, so her mother told her, in Oakfield. Aunt Hannah had taken her there once, promised to take her there again, however _Hero's business _had put the kibosh on that idea.

With her father gone, she thought things would return to how they were. They didn't. In the three weeks Sparrow stayed with them, somehow she had become used to his presence, maybe even so far as tolerated it, despite all her protesting.

The first few days of his absence it felt like how it had been, pre-Sparrow. She spent her time with her mother, made up with her friends after the autograph incident, made herself busy running to the market with her mother, then something changed. Absently, she caught herself looking for Sparrow as she played with her doll and found herself missing her silent guardian. She shook her head. It was silly of her, everything was back to normal, why would she want to change that?

The days passed and more and more often, she would find her mother standing at the window, watching for Sparrow's return. She remembered that too well. It was as if her mother was chained to the window, constantly there, constantly watching. After coming downstairs on the morning of the second week to see her mother there, suddenly, she wanted Sparrow back.

She would admit, her mother had started to become happier with her father around. In the later week, she smiled more, despite the friction between father and daughter. When it was simply husband and wife together, the years she seemed to have gained, such was the toll everything had taken on her, fell away and her mother transformed into someone else.

She approached her mother, gave her apron a tug and asked a question she hadn't in three weeks: "When's Dad coming back?"

Four days later, Sparrow returned. He slipped into the house quietly, his faithful dog curling up in front of the fire with a large yawn. It was early morning, her mother wasn't awake yet, however she had woken up and couldn't get back to sleep. She went downstairs, and startled when she saw Sparrow there.

She went forward and greeted him, "You're back. Mum will be glad," she said.

Sparrow nodded.

"Are you going to stay longer this time?"

That took him by surprise. He blinked then recovered himself. "Do you want me to?"

She nodded. Even more surprising, she meant it.

As Sparrow got back into what passed as a normal routine for him, he took more jobs on around Bowerstone, took her mother shopping into the market and took her to explore the Old Town where he grew up. While they walked, he would point out various places he knew of, remark on how much it had changed and how amazed he was by all the changes. She listened, quietly fascinated. The dog ran around them, sometimes bounding off in a different direction only to return minutes later, with something he'd dug up from someone's garden. He dropped it at her feet, the item this time being a bag which Sparrow quickly swiped. The dog wagged his tail and barked, bouncing around her. Sparrow pushed a small rubber ball into her hand, the dog growing all the more excited when he saw it. She threw it, the dog going after it in seconds.

"I'm going to have to leave again soon," Sparrow stated.

She felt a cold pit in her stomach and her throat tighten. "Why?"

"You know why. More..."

"Hero's business." She rolled her eyes as she said it.

"Rose..." He cringed. "I'm sorry, Louise."

"You can call me that if you want. I don't mind."

He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't like it? You said it was too old for you."

She shrugged.

"The sooner it's done, the sooner I can come back and cheer your mother up."

"I don't want you to go."

Sparrow said nothing.

"Will you be gone for long?" she asked.

"I don't know, it may take a while," he answered honestly.

"Will you bring me something back?"

"Of course."

She hadn't noticed the dog's return. It wasn't until he nudged her shoulder and cocked his head with a whine, that she acknowledged him at all. She scratched his ears, pet him and threw the ball again for him. They returned home not long after, Sparrow staying to speak to her mother, while she went to her room and prepared for bed. Sparrow sat with her as she fell asleep, tucked her in then left the room.

The next morning, Sparrow was gone.

Sparrow didn't return. Instead, an old man visited them. She heard the door from her room, and she leapt up, rushing down the stairs. She stopped halfway however, when her mother stood her ground at the door, letting no one past her. She tried to close the door, only to have it forced open. He pushed into the house, shoving her mother to the floor. The old man took out a gun and aimed it at her mother's head.

Her eyes widened and she curled into a ball, trying to make herself as small as possible. She couldn't take her eyes away, as the man continued to aim his gun at her mother. He pulled the trigger.

The sound was deafening, she didn't even realized she had screamed until she saw the old man aiming at the gun at her. She ran back up the stairs, over to the window. The old man was quicker however and he cocked the gun once more. She turned slowly. She shut her eyes and muttered: "Dad..."

Lucien pulled the trigger a second time.


	2. Broken

**Author's Note: **First off, a big thank you to those who reviewed the first part and to those who faved the story. This part is pretty much Sparrow's side of things come the end of the game and much shorter than the first part.

Constructive criticism appreciated as always.

This theme: Broken.

* * *

**Broken**

Broken, that's how he feels as Lucien tells him his family is dead, killed by Lucien's own hand while he wasn't there. While he was gone seeing to _Hero's business._ There is pain in his chest, he doesn't hear anything else Lucien tells him. It is Rose all over again. Only worse, it hurts even more now it's his child, his Alex, both gone.  
He tortures himself in those few moments, imagines the scene, his beautiful, amazing Alex, no doubt holding her own against _Lord _Lucien. Rose Louise...He doesn't even want to think of that, her blood spilled on the walls of his home.

Lucien raises his gun again and he is eight years old again, in Castle Fairfax. He hears Rose, crying out "_No!_", the thud of her body against the platform on which they both stand. He hears Lucien tell him "I'm sorry", feels the glass in his back again, the wind cutting into his skin as he falls. He is eight years old and helpless.

The gun fires, stunning him from his thoughts, there is no pain, he is still standing. He wonders if he's dead. No, he is not. He sees the body then, the lump of fur in a pool of blood and he breaks again. His family is dead, damn it even his dog is dead. How much more can this man take from him? Lucien speaks, but he doesn't hear him. He can't take his eyes away from his dog, his one constant companion, now even it has been taken from him.

The gun is raised for a last time.

"The last time I killed you, it tore my heart out," Lucien tells him, gun fixed upon him. He stares at Lucien, determined to look him in the eye as the man kills him for the second time. "Of course, you were only a child, but then...so was I."  
_So was Rose._

The gun fires.

Sparrow staggers from the impact, he is in too much pain to even feel the bullet. He falls to his knees and slumps to the ground.

He opens his mouth to cry out, he can't muster the words nor the strength to voice them. He closes his eyes, he is shattered, like his heart, a thousand pieces lying atop Hero Hill. He is broken, like before, and he cannot get up from this.

_Death is not your destiny today little Sparrow._


	3. Choices

**Author's Note: **Apparently I like my angsty Sparrow in these last couple of parts. Another short one, spoilers for the end of the game (warning just in case) and posting before I run out to college for the day. Luckily all this part needed was a quick going over and the last couple of bits at the end added.  
Once more a big thank you to ZNT for reviewing the last part.  
As always constructive criticism appreciated.

This theme: Choices

* * *

**Choices **

Three choices. No, that's not exactly right. Two choices, he'd already scrapped the third choice from his mind. If he wanted money, he could work for it, as he has always done in his life.

Love or Sacrifice. Bring his family back to life or choose to bring all of those who died in the making of the Spire back to life, never see his family again.

Could he really do it? Never see Alex, never see Louise again.

Why did it have to be him that made the choice? What right did he have to make it? Because he was a Hero? The thought alone made him want to scream.

Love or Sacrifice. Be selfish and make everything right again or do the Heroic thing, and bring all those people back.

He felt tears sting the corners of his eyes, his chest tightened and he looked away from Theresa.

He thought back to the dream world, or whatever it was, when he was with Rose again. His big sister looking after him, setting up games for him, in a world he wanted to be right but was so, so wrong.

_It's all right, Little Sparrow, _he heard her say. And he wanted to believe her, he wanted everything to be all right. He couldn't make a choice like this, he couldn't.

But he had to.

He looked back to Theresa, as still she waited, patient as always. She sensed he was ready to speak and prompted him, "Have you made your choice?"

_Oh Rose...I'm not a proper Hero..._

The Spire shook as he nodded in confirmation of his choice. The white light he and Theresa were surrounded in faded and he was once more at the top of the Spire, the other Heroes on the platforms.

He kept his gaze fixed on his feet, he couldn't bear to look neither Hammer nor Garth in the eye.

"We heard everything," Hammer said. He closed his eyes and waited. "Sparrow..."

He raised his head and looked at her. "I'd do anything to bring back someone I loved." Those words hit him as the reality of the choice he's just made dawns on him. The thousands he could've brought back, would her father have been among them? "But all those people, all those innocent victims that died while making this horrible place...Didn't they have families too?"

He clenched his fist. Of course they did. Of the faceless thousands that died, he didn't know any of them. He was a Hero, was he not allowed some sort of reward after everything?

"What about Bob? You knew him, didn't you?" Garth's voice drifts across. He hadn't even realised he'd spoken that last part aloud. And he knew Garth was right. He knew Bob, knew that there was a grieving widow left behind after his death. He thought again of his choice, what right did he have to put all those people through the grief he had endured for so long? There was no answer, he had no right.

No longer did a Hero stand there, instead stood a selfish man. And the selfish man had chosen Love.


	4. At the End of it All

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the wait. This one gave me bother more than anything, hence why it took me longer but it is longer in length, if that makes up for it. The main thing was, I couldn't think how Alex would react to knowing about the choice. Swung between her freaking out, then to being rather touched that Sparrow picked his family, which to me did not sound right at all. So, tried to strike a balance between her reactions, whether it's worked or not, different matter. Still with the angsty Sparrow though, seemingly I'm getting all the angst out the way first before I go onto anything else.  
As always, constructive criticism appreciated.

This theme: Ends

* * *

**At the End of It All**

It was finally over, Lord Lucien Fairfax was dead and her husband was coming home, this time for good. No more _Hero's business _that needed seeing to, no more Theresa calling on him whenever she felt like it, no more missing husband for weeks on end.

It should've been a time for joy, yet there was a somberness to Bowerstone that seemed out of place. She couldn't place it, something was _off_. It bothered her even more that she'd been feeling confused for the past couple of days, her memory becoming worse. For some reason she simply couldn't recall anything from the week previous. She tried not to worry about it.

She went about her usual routine, one eye on her daughter as Louise skipped ahead of her, the other eye on the roads leading away from the market square. Sparrow could come from any one of those, depending on where he'd been. He hadn't really said much, only that Theresa claimed another Hero had been found and that retrieving him, or her, would mean the end of Lucien. She hadn't dared hope for an end to everything, for her husband's quest for vengeance to be finally over after more than twenty years. She tried to understand it, really honestly tried. But on those cold nights where she was alone or when Lou asked when her father was coming back to make her, Alex, happy again, she hated Lucien and her husband's obsession.

Alex turned her attention back to her daughter, Louise already at the gift stall, no doubt eying up yet another doll. She smiled and decided to indulge her, just this once, since her father wasn't here yet. She went over to the stall, looked down to her daughter and reached for her purse. The impact of Louise hugging her legs almost knocked her over, and she didn't even try to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her lips when she heard the delighted, "Thank you Mum!"

Louise pointed out the doll she'd seen, Alex taking it and paying for it, then handed it to her daughter. Alex tied her purse to her belt and nodded her thanks to the stall owner. The woman only nodded curtly and turned away almost immediately. This was strange, normally the woman would stop for a few moments to chat with her. She tried to think nothing more of it, returned her attention to Louise and keeping a lookout for Sparrow. Louise was already halfway to the bookshop by this point. She stopped and turned back to her mother, waving her over. She approached her daughter, took her hand and let herself be led, or dragged was a more accurate description to the shop on the corner. She stayed near the door, occasionally poking her head out on the off-chance Sparrow would appear. Louise was happy enough to browse the books before she eventually returned to Alex's side, this time empty-handed.

They left the shop and continued their routine, going to all of their normal stops then finished up an hour later. They returned to the square, went over to the bridge where Alex lifted Louise onto the wall. Her daughter sat on the wall, kicking her legs, Alex keeping a tight grip around her waist, ensuring she wouldn't fall. While they stood, she thought she heard a dog bark. She lifted Louise back down onto the ground and looked around for where the noise came from. Sure enough, the tan-coloured dog bounded out from the alleyway next to the furniture shop and over to the two of them. Louise grinned.

"It's Dad!" she shouted. The dog stopped in front of her and licked her face excitedly, then ran over to Alex and jumped up onto her apron.

"Down you go boy," she told it, but gave it a scratch behind its ears all the same. It did as it was told and barked. "I'm glad to see you too, now where's your owner, hm? Where's Sparrow?"

The dog barked again and turned back to the way it came. Sparrow stood nearby, his travel bag dumped on the ground, a smile on his face. Louise was the first to go to him, the bags she was helping her mother carry, dumped and forgotten as she sprinted to greet her father. Sparrow scooped her up and held her tight. Alex tutted quietly to herself, went over to the discarded bags and gathered them together. Sparrow was over by her side in seconds, helping her to pick them all up and ended up carrying them all himself.

He looked different and there were many things that struck her as odd, the first of which being the eye patch he'd worn since she'd met him was gone, as was the scar that marred his face for so long. She frowned slightly and reached up to touch the now smooth skin on his cheek. Sparrow jerked back, a reaction she was used to. He didn't like anyone, not even her, running their fingers down that scar.

"I'll...explain later," he told her.

She nodded.

They reached the house, Sparrow dumping the shopping on the dining table, while Alex placed Sparrow's travel bag on the chair next to the fire. The dog lay down in front of the fire and yawned.

"You were gone so long this time," Alex said. Truly she'd lost count of the days, and her missing week did not help matters.

Sparrow opened his mouth to say something then shut it again, offering only a shrug.

"Is it over? Lucien is dead?"

He nodded. "He's gone, Alex. It's...all over."

Something was amiss. That niggling feeling of something being wrong in general returned. What had happened?

She was about to ask if he was all right when she was pulled into a hug. Sparrow buried his face into her neck and she could swear she felt tears. She wriggled out of the hug and held her husband at arm's length. Sure enough, he was crying. He offered a teary smile and she pulled him into another hug. Finally he let her go.

"Sparrow, what's wrong? Has something happened to Hammer, or Garth? Theresa?" she asked. She may not have been fond of the others, especially Theresa, but Sparrow was. Theresa had practically raised Sparrow, and he looked on her as the closest thing to a mother he had.

His expression darkened when she mentioned Theresa. He glanced away from her, a deep frown on his face.

"Nothing's...happened, I'm just...I missed you, is all," he answered and forced a smile.

Now it was her turn to frown. She was about to ask further when their daughter interrupted.

"Dad, what did you bring me? You said you'd bring something," Louise asked, as she tugged on his coat to get his attention.

Sparrow looked glad of the distraction, and he mouthed a quick "We'll talk later" to her then turned all of his attention to his daughter.

Later did not come. Sparrow spent the rest of his time with Louise, taking her a walk around Old Town then simply listened as she rattled off everything that she'd done, that her friends had done in the time he'd been gone. He could not have looked more pleased, he listened attentively, nodding every so often, offering up the odd question and laughed at the jokes their daughter told. Alex called them for dinner, then tried to extract some information with careful questions about what had happened with Lucien. Sparrow saw through it and he shut down entirely, saying little, the rest of the meal passed in awkward, uncomfortable silence.

He avoided her again, despite his promise of 'later', he did not seem to want to talk about this particular piece of Hero's Business.

The next day, he and Louise were up and gone without her even knowing. There was a note waiting on the table, written in Sparrow's messy handwriting, stating he'd taken Louise for a walk up to Fairfax Gardens and would be back for lunch. She sighed. He was still avoiding her and determined to keep quiet. She knew she couldn't force him, she had tried that in the early days of their relationship and it only resulted in him running off to do Hero...things, before returning with an apology and a request to let him speak in his own time. She did and sooner or later, he would come to her and tell her what was bothering him.

It didn't stop her worrying till he did of course. Every worst case scenario ran through her head as she waited for her husband and child to return.

She made herself busy in the house, tidying Louise's room, putting away the last bits of yesterday's shopping then started to prepare lunch. If there was one thing she _could _rely on about Sparrow, it was that when he said he would be back for a certain time, he was. Except Hero's Business, however that didn't count. As she was finishing up making lunch, her daughter burst through the door along with the dog. Sparrow appeared a moment later, standing in the doorway and tried not to catch her eye. Once more she wondered just what this last Hero had done to her husband, what Theresa had sent him to do that would return him to her like this.

"Mum, Mum! Dad got you something!" Louise shouted, rushing over to her and waved a ribbon covered box at her.

Sparrow's attention turned to their daughter and he smiled fondly, shaking his head slightly. "Well there goes that surprise," he said. He finally came into the house, instead of standing at the door, as if he were waiting for permission to enter.

She took the box offered to her, ruffled her daughter's hair and once more looked over to Sparrow. He approached her, put his arms around her wait and rest his head atop hers.

"Call it an apology for being gone so long this time," he told her.

"You don't need buy me something to apologise," she answered, though silently she added _just come back_. She undid the ribbon, finding it was a box of her favourite chocolates. "But I won't say 'no' to them." She grinned up at him.

He smiled back and kissed her forehead before he let her go, then ushered Louise to sit down at the table for lunch.

Though she was glad to see Sparrow back to his old self, if only for a moment, it bothered her still that he yet wouldn't speak of what had happened. He seemed to be trying to pretend the problem wasn't there, distracting himself in any way he could think of. It worried her.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, Sparrow later going for a walk around Bowerstone on his own to try and find some work, Louise staying in the house and retreated to her room. Just before dinner, Sparrow returned, smelling of alcohol, smoke while his shirt had gone missing. It seemed he had done a few hours in the blacksmith's then the pub pulling drinks. He greeted her, dumped his bag in front of the fire then went upstairs to run himself a bath. She made dinner, called her husband and daughter down from their retreats and laid the table. Sparrow appeared, carrying Louise on his shoulders and made a grand show of lifting her off and putting her in the chair. Alex couldn't help but smile.

She asked about his day, how the work had gone, normal subjects of conversation that entirely avoided Hero's Business. Louise joined in, telling him of what she had done throughout the day, what she planned to do the next day some of the things her friends had told her. She listened quietly, glad that father and daughter were at last getting on.

They fell into this routine for a week, Sparrow doing whatever jobs needed doing around town, she running her usual errands while Louise either helped out at home, went out to see her friends or pestered her father to take her somewhere. For a while, she managed to forget the niggling feeling that something wasn't right and whatever had been bothering Sparrow about his last bit of business seemed to be forgotten. During this time, she was happy, everything seemed something like a normal life should've been.

Then the nightmares started.

Louise was the first to suffer them and on the first night that she did, nothing could've chilled her more than the sound of her daughter screaming in fear. She leapt from her bed, surprised to find Sparrow already awake and there, a bundle of blankets sniffling and whimpering upon his knee. He rocked her gently, trying to calm her. She went over and sat next to Sparrow, then peeled back some of the blankets. Louise buried her face into her father's chest, while Alex stroked her hair and opened her arms. Louise detached herself from Sparrow and crawled off of his knee, squeezing in between them.

"What happened, Lou?" she said. She looked up to Sparrow then down to her daughter, nodding slightly to Louise.

Sparrow only shrugged.

"Had a nightmare..." Louise mumbled, as she wiped her cheeks when the tears rolled down them.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Louise shook her head.

"It sometimes helps to talk," Sparrow added.

Once more, their daughter shook her head.

"Can I sleep with you?" Louise asked, looking between her parents, pleading with them silently to let her.

Alex nodded and picked Louise up, carried her over to the large double bed and tucked her in. She got into the bed too, immediately finding her daughter attached to her. She put her arm around her daughter's shoulders, surprised to find the girl still quivering. Sparrow joined them, apparently having decided against going downstairs to stare at the fire and brood, one habit he seemed to have picked up in the Spire. He pulled both to him, a grim look on his face. She reached up and touched his cheek, mouthing "what's wrong?"

He shook his head and didn't answer.

The next day, Louise seemed to be back to normal, the nightmare that had frightened her so forgotten completely. She tried to find out just what the nightmare had been about, however, like her father, Louise shut down and didn't want to tell her. She let the subject drop.

That night, it was she who suffered a nightmare. It seemed so real...The old man at the door, trying to push past her. How he had shoved her roughly to the floor, the sweat running down her brow when he brought out the gun and aimed it at her. Her absolute terror when she noticed Louise on the stairs watching the entire thing. She could feel the tears in her eyes, her prayers that Lou escape, get away before this man noticed her and turned the gun on her too. The deafening sound of the gun as it fired...Blackness...

She bolted up in the bed with a gasp, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding against her chest. Sparrow stirred next to her, turned onto his other side and looked at her blearily.

"Whas happened?" he asked. He was cut off by a large yawn.

"I...I had," she paused, took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself and turned back to her husband. "I had a nightmare too."

That seemed to wake him up. Sparrow propped himself up on his elbows and waited for her to continue.

"It was so real..." She shook her head. "It's probably nothing, probably worrying too much for Lou." She gave him a small smile, lay back down and faced the ceiling.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. She kissed his cheek and pulled the blankets up over her shoulder. "Go back to sleep Sparrow, don't wake Lou, not after last night."

Sparrow looked unconvinced, though he didn't argue with her.

She fell into a restless sleep and awoke hours later, to an empty bed. For a moment she thought that those blissful weeks had been a dream, her husband's quest for vengeance over and Lucien was dead. She heard noises downstairs, recognised Sparrow's voice and relaxed. She got up, went down to find him and found he'd made breakfast. Once again she thought the worst, that Sparrow was going to leave again and this was done to soften the blow.

"What's this for?" she said and sat down at the table. Louise was already there, tucking into her breakfast.

Sparrow raised an eyebrow. "What? I can't make breakfast for my wife once in a while?" he answered.

_No_, she wanted to answer, _Not when you're a Hero_. She said nothing.

He sighed. "I couldn't sleep, didn't want to wake you so I just got up."

She frowned, not entirely convinced of this reasoning. She let the subject drop for the moment, she would take it up later with him once they were alone.

Another night passed and both mother and daughter had the same nightmare. Alex awoke first, startled and annoyed, then Louise screeched and burst into tears, calling for her mother. Alex was at her side in seconds, taking the quivering bundle that was her daughter onto her lap and shushed her quietly. Sparrow rushed up the stairs, gun raised looking for whatever had frightened his daughter. She thought back to a time when Louise was younger, when one of her friends told her monsters lived under her bed. The girl believed her friend of course, refused to sleep in her bed for days. Alex briefly wondered what Sparrow would've done if he'd been there, if he'd have came rushing in then, all guns blazing, ready to take a shot at an imaginary monster.

He put the gun in the holster when she shot him a warning look.

"What's wrong, Lou? Another nightmare?" she asked as she wiped her daughter's tears away.

Louise nodded and mumbled something.

"What?" Sparrow said. He sat down on the bed beside her.

"He killed you, Mum," Louise told her. "He shot you..."

She went cold and she heard Sparrow suck in a breath sharply.

"Louise I'm fine, look. I'm right here, no one's shot me."

"But he did! He shot you then he came after me!"

"Who shot her?" Sparrow butted in.

"The old man...With the white hair. Mum wouldn't let him in so he pushed her out the way then he shot her."

Sparrow looked away, a deep scowl on his face.

"It was just a dream, pet. Just a dream..."

Sparrow got up and went downstairs, leaving her alone to calm their daughter. Louise was convinced if she went back to sleep, she could watch her mother be killed again. She clung to Alex, not wanting to let her go and simply wouldn't settle down enough to even consider trying to sleep. In the end, Alex brought her downstairs, made some hot chocolate for the three of them and let her stay up until she couldn't fight the sleep any longer. She carried Louise back up the stairs, sleep having deserted her, tucked her in and slid her doll, Macy, into the bed as well.

When she was sure that her daughter wouldn't wake up again, she went back down the stairs and moved the chair in front of the fireplace, directly across from Sparrow. He looked up, blinked in surprise then sat hunched over, staring down at his feet.

"Even in death he still haunts me..." he muttered.

"Talk sense," she snapped. She was in no mood for riddles or for Sparrow's brooding. "You know what's upsetting her, don't you? Why she's having these nightmares."

Sparrow faced her once more, opened his mouth to say something, then simply shut it again and nodded.

"Tell me then. Why is she? Why am I? I had the same dream, the same man coming into my home and shooting me, point blank."

He sighed. "They're not dreams, they're a memory. And I wish you didn't remember that at all." He sounded on the verge of tears, his voice broke and he swallowed hard.

Her harsh demeanour softened and reached out and held his hand in hers. "Sparrow? Tell me what happened, when you found the last Hero."

He put his hand over hers and squeezed it, then he stood up, his back to her and leaned against the fireplace.

"I found the last Hero in Bloodstone, one place if I never have to look at it again, it'll be too soon," Sparrow began. "He was a sharpshooter, a pirate named Reaver. Can't say I'm overly fond of him. He shot Barnum and he tried to hand me over to Lucien after sending me on an errand." He turned back to face her and folded his arms over his chest. "You remember Barnum, yeah? Went into business with him."

Alex nodded. She remembered him, though she had only met him once or twice.

"Theresa met us at Hero Hill after everything was dealt with in Bloodstone. We were so close, it was nearly over...Then Lucien got there, with his damned Spires and his guards and his..." Sparrow gritted his teeth and looked away from her. Again, he took a few breaths, then continued once he'd calmed himself, though now he wouldn't look at her. "He took the others, Theresa disappeared and it was just me and him. I couldn't move, he was right there and I couldn't get him. He put up this...thing, this barrier, like before. He shot my dog..." Sparrow looked over to the dog in question, it asleep on a cushion he'd bought it under the window.

"The man in our dreams...That was Lucien?" Alex asked, finally finding her own voice.

Sparrow nodded. "Yes. He said he killed you, you and Lou...Said he came here, that he should've finished the job with me and that he wasn't going to make the same mistake again by leaving it to someone else."

Alex shook her head. "But I'm here, Louise is here. She's not...She can't be dead. Sparrow...Please."

"Neither of you are dead. Not any more."

She frowned.

"The Spire that Lucien was building grants wishes, he wanted to use it to bring about a 'better world', as he called it," Sparrow explained. He stepped away from the fireplace and sat down in front of her once more. "Lucien shot me, I guess he killed me." He took her hands once more when she gasped, quickly tried to calm her. "It's alright! I'm fine, I...it didn't hurt." He seemed to realise his mistake and muttered something under his breath. "Really, I'm not dead either. But...The Spire grants wishes, yeah? That was my 'reward'." He snorted even as he said it. "A choice. Bring you and Louise back, bring all those people that died building the Spire back or money."

Alex understood. She stared at Sparrow, almost begged him to tell her he hadn't done what she thought, that he hadn't chosen her and his family over all of those people.

"I wasn't going to pick money, I mean I've got enough as it is. There's more than enough to keep you and Louise going if something should ever happen to me. But...I couldn't lose...Not again. I lost my sister, I wasn't going to lose my wife, my daughter to him too."

She jerked back away from him, stood up and walked over to the window. She put her hand over her mouth and she thought she was going to be sick.

"Alex..." Sparrow said. He still hadn't moved from the chair at the fire.

"All those people...You let them..." she couldn't finish, she couldn't look at him.

"I...I know. Now you know why people have been 'off' with you."

"It could've been their husband, or their wife, or their son or daughter. What if that had been Louise? What if she really had died and someone had the chance to return her to us and they didn't? Sparrow, how could you?"

He didn't answer.

She spun around to face him. "You are one of the most selfless people I know, yet you pick then, the most important choice of your life. You pick that time to be selfish?"

"I wasn't going to let you die! I wasn't going to lose you. And I thought...I thought what if...What if I turned out like Lucien? He suffered the same, he lost his wife, his daughter and it drove him mad. I wasn't going to turn into that."

_But I fear you might all the same..._She didn't say those words, she didn't need to, the look she gave him said it all.

Sparrow turned away again, buried his faces in his hands and leaned back to face the ceiling. He took his hands away, still facing the ceiling. Alex stayed where she was and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Theresa has the Spire now, the other Heroes are gone, went their separate ways. Something Lucien said...He said he merely listened, he implied Theresa was..." he said quietly.

Ah, so that was why he hadn't mentioned her.

"She gave me this too..." Sparrow went over to his travel bag and pulled out a small piece of paper. He returned to her, held it out and reluctantly, she took it. She unfolded it then read it over, her eyes widening when she saw the name at the bottom of it.

"Is this from...?" she said.

Sparrow nodded.

"I went looking for her briefly, thought she might be in Brightwood but she wasn't. I guess she'll find me," he answered.

She felt nothing but anger then. He had everything, his family back while countless others had lost theirs. The anger faded to nothing but confusion. Why was she so special that she got to live? Even if it had only been their daughter who was returned to him, she could understand that. If given that choice she would choose her daughter.

And there was the key phrase to it all. _If given that choice..._What would she have done? If she had lost as much as Sparrow. If she had lost her husband, her child to the man who had ruined her life more than twenty years ago, who she had grown up hating for taking her one family at that time, what would she have done?

She didn't know.

She risked a glance at Sparrow. He was looking at her, unsure and he rubbed the back of his neck as he waited. He must've thought she would pack her bags and leave him, the way she was going on.

She pulled him into a tight hug.

At the end of it all, the choice was made, the deed was done, there was nothing left but to weather the consequences with him, however harsh they may be.


	5. Colours

**Author's Note: **I suck when it comes to updating, seriously. First I started NaNo, then my college classes decided they want a whole pile of work handed it (I ended up marathoning NaNo in 16 days thanks to that), then holidays when you'd think I could get some work done, I didn't. So yeah, I suck. And I bought Fable 3 so I've spent a lot of the time trying to figure these stories into the game.  
Anyway. A huge thank you to all of those who have reviewed, added this story to their faves and alert list. You guys are all awesome :D

Couple of short stories this time, two colours and what they mean to Sparrow.  
As always, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

* * *

**Red**

When he thinks back to the day his sister died, he remembers the cold and red. Red from the blood when Lucien shot Rose, the red glow from the strange circle he had them stand in, red on his hands, red on the ground. Red, red, red. When he thinks of that day, he feels a blood thirst so unquenchable that he thinks no amount of suffering, nothing he could put Lucien through can ever make up for this pain. This gaping hole that has been left since Rose died.

When he thinks of Rose, he thinks of red. Red for the anger at her being taken from him, red for the love he'll always feel for her.

**Blue**

It's the blue eyes that unnerve him the most. He had always rather liked his previous eye colour, the pale grey and some had remarked on it, how they were like his sister's. And now they're blue. After more than a year of trying to get to grips with using Will, it has changed his eye colour to something completely different.

He doesn't mind the swirling blue lines that now cover him, oddly enough. He treats them much like extra tattoos and scars, simply something to check every so often. He can't deny either that all the training he's been doing with Will has paid off, and more than once has a spell saved his life. But those eyes...

He knows he'll get used to them eventually, he'll have to if he keeps up with his training in Will. However it never fails to make him jump, to see the glow whenever he passes a shop window. Some Hero he's turning out to be, he can't help but think, jumping at his own reflection. The Hero with the bright blue eyes and the glowing tattoos.

Well, he thinks, it could be worse.


	6. Scars

**Author's Note: **Two chapters today to make up for my shockingly bad updating schedule. And I still hate writing fight scenes.

Constructive criticism always appreciated.  
This theme: Writer's Choice, Scars.

* * *

**Scars**

Every scar tells a story and Sparrow remembers every one. The one that stood out most, both in his mind and the first one anyone noticed, was the scar down his face, which he covered with an eyepatch. He didn't even notice it at first, and he remembered thinking how lucky he was that it didn't take his eye.

He remembered when he walked into the tavern, that if nothing else the money from the bandits that had attacked him would pay for his room. He was due to meet Alex there and he was late. He looked around the busy tavern, the people there little more than blurry shapes, colours sitting at tables and talking amongst themselves. His vision blurred completely, the shapes became even fuzzier and he had to blink to clear it.

"Sparrow!"

He turned his head to the source of the voice. Alex stood up and waved to him from the table she sat at. He followed it and almost walked straight past her, he would've done if she hadn't put her hand out to catch his arm. He sat down across from her, tried to smile and found that it hurt too much.

He remembered the look of absolute horror on her face when he returned to the tavern in Rookridge, how she reached out to run her hand down his cheek and how he'd recoiled from her touch. She seemed to realise what she'd done and rushed to get bandages and other healing supplies from one of the rooms. She returned a moment later, booked a room and took him to it.

"Sit down and I'll try and stitch you back together," she told him, her back to him while she sorted through what she needed.

Sparrow chewed on his lip. "Alex, you do know what you're doing, don't you?" he said.

She turned back to face him. "I have an idea of it. Granted I haven't really stitched anything quite like that before..." She too bit her lip.

Oh Avo...

He held back a groan and tried to brace himself, Alex sitting next to him, needle in hand.

Despite the amount of complaining and fidgeting he'd done as she patched him up, he remembered how glad he was that she was there to do so. It was still early days for them, when he was still considering the offer the ghost had made him. It briefly made him reconsider.

The next scar he remembers vividly is the one across his back. He remembers this one because it was one of the first he received. He had barely finished his training, only just left the gypsy camp and was on his way to Bowerstone for the first time in ten years. He remembered the mix of anticipation he felt, the fear, the sickening churn of his stomach as he walked the road. Ten years...Ten years since Rose had been killed, ten years since his life had changed so much. He didn't know what to expect.

It wasn't that simple of course. The main road was closed thanks to the bandit, Thag and on finding this out, Theresa told him to kill the bandit to stop the attacks. The churn in his stomach became even worse and he thought he would be sick.

He did was he was told. The order made sense, the road would be open, he could get to Bowerstone. It was his first real battle.

He drew his sword and headed into the clearing where the cage the people kidnapped were being kept, ready to be sold off to the highest bidder. He knew them, they were older than him, teenagers when he'd been brought to the gypsy camp at first and just starting to leave the camp and learn the trade routes. He rushed toward the cage.

"Watch out Sparrow!" one of them shouted, pointing to something over his shoulder.

He spun around, face to face with a group of three bandits, more waiting in the branches of the trees.

He leapt back and brought his sword up just in time to block the attack from the first bandit. He glanced to the other two, the bandits edging their way to his left and right, making sure that he couldn't escape. The first bandit grinned at him then launched into his next attack, sword swinging a hair's breadth away from him. Again, Sparrow leapt away. He ducked an attack from the bandit to his left and dodged and danced away from the bandit on his right. The three attacked at once and he moved quickly out of the way. He reached behind him, drawing out the crossbow he had been given then dodged away once more when one of the bandits brought his sword downward, intending on slicing him open.

Sparrow loaded the crossbow hurriedly, dropping the bolt in his haste, the bow itself almost knocked out of his hands. He aimed and fired it, not looking to see if it was even in the direction of his opponents. The bandit cried out, the bolt sticking out of his shoulder, his sword on the ground.

"Argh! He shot me!" the bandit yelled, face scrunched up with pain and he leaned on the nearest tree.

Sparrow didn't wait for him to complain further. He loaded the bow and shot him again, this time aiming it for his chest. The bandit stumbled back from the force of it and fell to the ground.

The other two bandits stared at their fallen companion and rounded on him. The one he had faced first bared his teeth at him, bringing his sword up and thrust it at him.

"You killed my mate! I'll 'ave you for that!"

Now feeling slightly more confident than he had, Sparrow grinned back at the bandit and made a 'come on' gesture.

Another bandit jumped down from the branches. They seemed to be never-ending, for each one he killed, another appeared from the trees or the bushes around them. Sparrow shot and cleaved his way through them, more than once scraping his elbows on the ground when diving out of the way. On his current adrenaline high, he didn't feel it and as he backed away, he put his crossbow away and concentrated on summoning some kind of spell with his newly found talents in Will.

It was a simple spell, channelling energy into a lightning bolt and shooting it. It took a few moments to conjure and he fired it at the nearest bandit. The bandit screamed and shook uncontrollably, rooted to the ground, the smell of his flesh roasting wafting around the rest of the camp. The spell burnt out, the bandit collapsed in a heap on the ground, his skin looking more like he'd spent a few hours roasting on a spit fire.

"He just..." one bandit started, and stared at the dead man on the ground. "He can do bloody magic! Careful lads, get ready to move quick! And keep yer distance!"

They spread out again, now much more cautious. Sparrow raised his sword, blocked one bandit's attack, then dodged out of the way of another. He fired another spell, this one much weaker than previous, and leapt forward, slashing his sword at the bandit. The bandit staggered, taken off-guard by the spell and barely had time to cry out before he was cut down and Sparrow moved onto the last of the group.

The remaining bandits exchanged a glance then ran. Sparrow watched them, a grin stretching across his face and he let out a whoop, throwing his hands in the air. The two traders in the cage cheered, calling out congratulations.

"Excellent! Great work! Now let us out of here!" the man shouted over.

Sparrow nodded.

His dog wandered away, nose pressed to the ground and trotted up to the cabin. It sniffed the air, bounced back and barked a few times. Sparrow turned then began to approach it. The door was flung open, his dog kicked out of the way and the towering form of Thag trudged out.

"What the...? Where the hell's the rest?" he said, then looked around at the corpses. "You? Right, I'll give you to the count of three, then I'll gut ya!" Thag turned around. "One...Two..." He turned back, "Ah soddit!" Thag yelled and charged at him.

Sparrow rolled out of the way, then kept his distance. He ducked and dodged and took his chances where he could. He shot an energy spell at the bandit leader, an attempt at distracting him, it missed. He charged up his next attack, ready to fire. Thag was too quick this time, he knocked Sparrow down, kicked him and slashed him across his back. He felt the sword slice the skin, the pain bloomed briefly and he tried to ignore it. He rolled away from the bandit's sword and shot another spell, this one hit its mark and bought him a few valuable seconds. He got to his feet, fired a weaker spell, a fireball this time and Thag cried out, hands flying to his face. Sparrow took his chance and rammed his sword through the bandit's chest. Thag's mouth hung open, eyes wide and he stared at the blade. Sparrow stared at it also. The bandit staggered back then fell to the ground, dead.

After he killed the bandit, he cheered, let the traders out then tended to his dog. It wasn't till he got to Bowerstone and met up with Theresa that it really seemed to sink it. That he'd killed someone, that at eighteen years old he'd taken his first life and now had his first battle scar to show for it.

He remembered feeling proud of his newly acquired 'war-wound', that he'd made the roads that bit safer. Even when Theresa made him think about it, he could justify it to himself because it was a bandit and done for the greater good.

He was still a child, he thought, the whole life of a Hero was something new and a big adventure for him. The excitement that he'd finally, _finally_, get revenge on Lucien for the murder of his sister and almost killing him. He couldn't wait.

The rest of the myriad of scars that cover him, he remembers are from various battles. A balverine here, another group of bandits ambushing him there, an assassin and a scar on his foot when a beetle caught him off-guard when his dog ran off after a rabbit. He will admit that was not one of his finest moments and he remembers he hopped away from the beetle, almost into Bower Lake then had to limp the rest of the way back to the ruins of the Hero's Guild after he'd forgotten to buy potions the last time he was in Bowerstone.

Every scar tells a story and perhaps one day, Sparrow will tell them all.


	7. Home 1

**Author's Note: **Apparently, I felt like writing Alex and so this fill came into being. This was what I did in-game, house hunted until she commented "Now that's what I call a house" at the most expensive one there. So, I took every job on offer to get enough money for it, bought it and it kept her happy. Well, happy enough that she still hasn't divorced me like she did with my first Hero. Got a couple of ideas for this theme, thinking I'll do more than one fill for it.

As always constructive criticism appreciated.  
This theme: Home

* * *

**Home**

Alex didn't have a home, she hadn't had one since she'd agreed to marry Sparrow. Instead, she lived in the pub where Sparrow worked all the hours he could and paid for her room. She was happy, happier than she thought possible when he'd proposed to her. However, when sitting in the smoky, smelly pub watching her husband-to-be pulling pints, it was not how she thought she would begin married life.

Even though they had no roof over their head, she loved Sparrow, loved him enough to tell him of Victor, something she still felt responsible for, after all these years. Sparrow understood and listened when she told him. When she was finished, he simply took her in his arms and held her. She hadn't wanted to leave and she knew then she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

She left the pub and went to her room. There she stayed until she dozed off, Sparrow finally finishing his shift and came upstairs to join her sometime later. She awoke to Sparrow lying next to her, already awake.

"I'm surprised you managed to get away," she said.

Sparrow sighed. "I'm sorry Alex. It was a busy night," he told her. He sat up from the bed. "Feel like going house-hunting today? To make up for me being chained to the bar."

She nodded then yawned and got up from the bed.

Sparrow beamed at her. "Great. Meet you down there then?"

Once more she nodded and Sparrow too got up, disappearing out of the room.

An hour later, they were wandering the streets of Bowerstone. They wandered into Old Town, where Sparrow grew up. She found one particularly nice house that overlooked Fairfax Castle. While she explored it, Sparrow stood outside, looking up at the castle. She went back outside, once she'd finished her inspection of the house, Sparrow barely noticing her. He smiled at her, it didn't reach his eyes and she frowned at him. He sighed.

"Rose and I used to stare up at the castle from here," he said, by way of explanation. "She always liked it in the snow..."

Alex took his arm and led him away. Bowerstone Old Town was out if it still held too many memories for him.

They returned to the market, back to the Cow and Corset. Sparrow nursed a pint for over an hour, one he pulled himself when the service wasn't quick enough for him, and sat quietly as she remarked on the houses she'd seen and the ones she'd liked. He listened and nodded every so often, smiled when she seemed to get enthusiastic about one in particular and all her plans for it. He stood up from the table.

"Well, why not go back for a second look?" he suggested.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Sparrow that was one of the most expensive ones, we can't afford that."

He shook his head and pulled her to her feet. "It can't hurt for a second look, though."

She let him lead her back to the house.

It was on the road to Fairfax castle, the last house before the path. It was large, grand looking and there was a little garden, of a sort, nearby. It had been love at first sight for Alex and she was sure this was 'the one'. Then she'd looked at the price and quickly scrapped the very thought of it from her mind.

Sparrow stood in the doorway then went in. He knocked dust off of the table that was already in it, opened cupboards and wandered up the stairs. She hesitated at the door. He returned downstairs a moment later and back over to her side.

"Alex, talk to me here," he said. He glanced around the house. "I thought you liked this one the best."

She sighed. "I did. I do. It would make a wonderful home," she told him, then looked over to the door, where the details of the house were pinned. "But the price of it..."

He smiled at her. "Don't worry about the price of it, really. Is this the one you want?"

"Well yes, but...What do you think of it? It's not just my decision."

He turned back to face the room, one arm around her shoulders. "It'll be nice once it's fixed up, plenty of room at least. And I kinda like that balcony upstairs."

"So, if we're decided then, now what?" She tilted her head, curious to see where this was going.

Sparrow put one hand on his chin and chewed on his lip. "Now...Now I think you may need to give me a little while." He faced her once more. "I promise Alex, this is the house we'll get. This'll be our home."

He disappeared that night when she was asleep, a bouquet of fresh flowers waiting for her on the bedside table. There was a note, in Sparrow's normally untidy handwriting saying "See you soon."

'Soon' was near two months later. He'd paid for her room for all the time he thought he would be gone, more than that in fact. He returned very briefly though she never saw him. The only sign of his presence were the flowers when he had been back and after a month and a half of absence, these lost their novelty and she simply wanted him.

A few days after the last bouquet of flowers greeted her, the next morning she awoke to a note. Groggily, she reached out and held it at arm's length while she came to. She read it over once, then twice. It said: "Meet you downstairs." It was in Sparrow's handwriting.

She quickly ate, dressed and rushed down the stairs, eager to find him. He wasn't there and her heart sank. Had he left already? Surely not. She turned when she heard the dog bark and there was Sparrow, attempting to creep up behind her and now giving the dog a mock-glare.

"Thanks buddy, really know how to ruin a surprise don't you," he said.

Alex was already in his arms while the dog barked again. Abruptly, he let her go, though he did still have a bright grin on his face.

"I missed you," she told him and let him lead her out of the pub.

"I'm sorry I was gone so long. Didn't think it would take that much time."

"Hero's business?"

"Not quite." He led her through the past the clock tower and down the street. She knew where this road led and she looked to him, one eyebrow raised as she wondered what he was up to.

He stopped at the house, her dream house. The for sale sign was gone. Despite what Sparrow had said, that that would be their home, she didn't really expect him to make good on the promise, not with the price of it.

"Sparrow, what..." she began and let go of his hand.

Sparrow could barely keep still. He reminded her of an overexcited puppy. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and gestured for her to try the door. She obeyed, found the door open and the majority of the old furniture replaced.

"All right, what's going on?" She turned and faced him, her arms folded. "Sparrow? Why are we here? Has someone bought this house?"

He nodded. "We have."

She stared at him, her mouth agape.

"That's where I've been for the last few weeks." He bit his lip. "I heard there were some jobs going in Oakfield, the guard wanted some bounty hunting done and other stuff. The pay was pretty reasonable." He shrugged. "The only thing was the amount of time it took, I kept coming back here to make sure it hadn't been sold."

"You mean it's...ours?" Alex said, finally managing to find her voice.

He nodded. "I got some furniture, dunno if it's what you'd have picked, I can go back and change it if you don't like it and all." He rubbed the back of his neck, offered a smile then had the air knocked out of him when Alex threw herself at him. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I take it you like it then."

She took his face in her hands and kissed him hard. "I love you."

And she did. In that moment, she didn't think she could love him more. He'd kept his promise, that the house would be theirs, the house would be their home, and now it was. She had a home at last and would finally marry Sparrow.


	8. Home 2

**Author's Note: **This updating thing? I suck at it -.- Firstly, thank you so much to those who have reviewed this story, added it to their favs and alerts. You guys are awesome :D  
This chapter should've been finished a lot sooner than it was. I could blame college but it was me, mostly. It ended up much longer than I'd planned, it was only meant to be short and while I had planned to write for Hammer with this part anyway, I didn't expect her to have such a long conversation with Sparrow. I can't complain, I enjoyed writing for her and I think she's in character. I hope.

Anyway, constructive criticism is appreciated as always.  
This theme: Home.

* * *

**Home 2**

The Spire's shadow looms over them as the boat they leave on sails away from it and Sparrow wonders if he'll ever truly escape it.

He doesn't remember how long it took before, to get to the Spire. If he's honest, he doesn't really remember all that much from his life before. That bothers him. He doesn't remember his home, doesn't remember his friends, if he had family. There is a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that there is someone waiting for him. He only just remembers he had a dog and Lucien had killed someone dear to him.

He's covered in scars and now Will lines, he wonders if he was an adventurer before. He doesn't know, perhaps he has some profession he can go back to at least, try and build his life again, forget the Spire happened. No such luck, he thinks. Spending that amount of time in a place like that, it changed him. Already he misses the thrumming of the Spire, listens out for it, only to hear nothing but the waves splashing against the boat. It did become familiar, as much as never wanted to admit when he was there, admitting that seemed as if he were giving in. And so he fought. Now he's out, he can't remember why he fought, why he hated Lucien with such a passion.

He looks around the boat, notices Garth staring at him and it seems as if the man has said something to him and is now awaiting an answer. He kicks himself, he was lost in a world of his own.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear a word of that," he says, still cursing himself.

Garth doesn't comment on it. "I said you must be anxious to get home, after all this time."

He nods.

Where is home? he thinks. Yes, it's Albion but where? He can't remember the towns or cities, can't remember which one he lives in. _Did _he live in any one of them? Or did he have a little out of the way place? He'll find out he supposes, perhaps he'll pass something that sparks a memory.

"Ten years is a long time to be away from it." Garth leans on the side of the ship, Sparrow beside him, staring out into the distance.

Again he nods.

"You don't say much, do you?" He has one eyebrow raised. Sparrow simply shrugs in response. Garth takes the hint and leave him be.

Sparrow goes below, finds a room and falls asleep. He dreams of a place he no longer knows, a sister he no longer recognises and Lucien pointing a gun at them.

The gun fires. He screams, his sister screams and then, he's flying. The impact of the ground awakens him. He bolts upright, heart pounding, his hand going to the old scar from the bullet wound. The memory lingers, playing over in his mind and he tries to hold onto it, pick out details that'll spark another memory.

The name 'Rose' echoes. Did he call for her, in the dream? Was that the girl's name that the man shot? He groans and turns over, burying his face in the pillow. The answers do not come and he starts to doubt if they ever will.

It's another day before they finally dock in Oakfield. In the distance, he can hear a dog barking and as they get closer, he can see the shape of it bounding up and down at the end of the pier. It runs off again, he can still hear it barking. The ship docks and Garth is the first one off the boat and back onto dry land. Sparrow watches him as he looks around and takes a deep breath. He turns back, waits for Sparrow to leave the ship and he does so hesitantly.

The village looks familiar, vague memories making their way into his mind. Something about spending some amount of time here, reasons still unbeknownst to him. The Temple of Light was nearby too, an errant thought reminded him, and the cave where he met Hammer for the first time.

_Wait. _Where had _that _come from?

While he's distracted, the dog leaps on him, sending him staggering back a few steps and he falls backwards into the water. The dog follows him in, paddling around him as he splutters and glares at said animal.

"Thanks buddy. That's one hell of a welcome," he says to the dog.

The dog just looks at him.

"Friend of yours?" Garth says from above, with a chuckle. The amusement vanishes when both hear footsteps along the pier. A robed woman peers over the edge, a smile of her own on her face.

Theresa. He remembers her. Remembers she was the one who told him, who guided his...whatever he did before.

"Your furry friend has been coming here for a week," Theresa tells him. He swims to the shore, sodden and shoots another glare to the dog. The dog ignores it and proceeds to soak him even more.

Garth and Theresa go to the shore, Garth, glancing to the path beside him, eager to leave.

"Ten years, my friend," she says and her smile widens, "Welcome back. You have done the impossible."

Sparrow simply nods.

She turns her attention to Garth and nods to him. "Welcome to you, Garth."

Garth frowns at her. "Welcome me? I'm not staying."

"I ask that you listen, Garth. You know much about the Old Kingdom, enough to know you cannot destroy the Spire alone." Even the name sends a cold bolt of fear through Sparrow and absently, he reaches down and scratches the dog's ears, suddenly eager to leave as well. "All I ask is that you listen to what we can offer you, we share a common aim."

Garth agrees, Theresa teleporting him away, telling him to meet Hammer in Rookridge. A good thing that she left him his old equipment and he searches through it for a map. At first it seems a useless exercise, his memory of the land is patchy at best and he's sure he doesn't know enough to pick out landmarks from the map. He checks it anyway, looking for the Temple of Light, the one little nugget of information he does have. He finds it near Oakfield, and at the very least, with this place to start from, he plans his route.

It takes him days to get to Rookridge, for he stops at everything that so much as causes a niggle of recognition. His memory is returning, slowly but surely. He remembers Hammer, enough to pick her out from a crowd, remembers Rose and just why he hates Lucien. He hopes Hammer will manage to fill in what blanks there still are, the subject of his family is still a hazy one. He's sure he has one, a wife, _someone _waiting for him, but her name, her face, he cannot recall.

He enters the tavern and manages, much to his amazement, to pick out Hammer almost immediately. She's taller than him now and looks as if she could crush him without even trying. The dog barks and bounces up to her.

"Hey boy, where've you been?" she greets it, then looks up, her eyes widening. "If I didn't know better..."

He raises a hand to wave in greeting himself and promptly finds himself engulfed in a bear hug. "You old bastard!"

"Hannah...You're crushing...Hannah! Air!" He wriggles out of her grip and stumbles when she thumps him on the back.

"I can't believe it...You're really here." She holds him at arm's length, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes, and takes in the sight of him. Content that he won't disappear, she wipes her eyes. "You took your sweet time about it. What was it like in there?"

He opens his mouth to reply then shuts it again. He can't.

She understands and nods, not pushing him. "I suppose I'll find out." She turns back to the bar and leans on it, ordering another drink for herself and him. "I'm waiting to meet a contact, supposedly has information about our...you know. Number three."

He nods once more.

"I'll head back to the Guild once I've met him, Theresa will call you." She takes a swig of the bottle in front of her. "I don't know how you put up with her, times I've wanted to smack her."

Sparrow simply 'ha's quietly, looking at the pint he's been given. He eyes the keg and is half-tempted to pull his own, sure that he could do a better job.

"Anyway. Have you seen Alex yet?" The silence says it all and Hammer's jaw drops. "What are you doing standing here talking to me then, you fool! Get back there and see her!" Hammer grabs his shoulders and starts to push him out of the tavern, the rest of the people staring at them.

"Hannah! Hann...Stop! Whoa!" He manages to duck away and turn to face her. "I can't remember her...I can't remember..." He feels a lump grow in his throat, as if by admitting it out loud makes it true.

"You can't remember your own wife?" Hammer stares at him. "But how does...Was it the Spire? Was it Lucien? Did he do something to you while you were there?" She guides him back to the bar and orders more drinks. This won't solve the problem, but it will make it bearable, he thinks.

He shakes his head. "It wasn't Lucien...Well it was, but it was my fault too."

Sparrow speaks of the Spire, in as little detail as he can get away with and tells Hammer only the bare minimum of what happened there. She listens, silent, her beer untouched.

"I need you Hannah. I need you tell me of my family," he tells her.

She nods. "Your little girl's nine now, she was barely even a year old when you left. She's so like you. She wants to be a Hero when she grows up."

Sparrow snorts quietly. "I can't imagine her mother is overly pleased with that idea."

Hammer chuckles. "She's not."

She continues, speaking of Alex, his wife and Rose Louise, his daughter. Some memories return to him, some that were just out of reach before, now returning to him with clarity. It's too much and he rests his head on the counter.

"Go and see them, Alex will understand," Hannah advises and pats his shoulder lightly. "She's waited this long for you, don't make her wait much longer. Not now you're here."

Sparrow raises his head. Will Alex understand? That he's very likely not the man she married? That he can only just remember that man and even then, he has to keep reminding himself of who he is, what he's done.

Hammer finds his bag, pulls out the map and spreads it on the counter. "Look, you're heading here." She points to the city of Bowerstone. "You've lived there for as long as I've known you and you grew up there before your sister died. There'll be something to jog your memory, I'm sure of it." She folds it up and hands it to him. "You said yourself it's been better, that being back has fixed it, sort of."

He raises an eyebrow, disbelieving. "So I should go to Bowerstone on faith alone and hope that Alex takes me back?"

Hammer glares at him and swipes at his head. He ducks quickly. "Yes. I forgot how stubborn you could be." She sighs. "Look, I know you're scared." He frowns and opens his mouth to argue. "Shh. I know you. You can't let Lucien do this to you, he took your sister, don't let him take your wife and your daughter too."

He can't say anything to that, can't argue with her. She's right. She knows she's right and he feels his stomach plummet to somewhere on the floor. He swallows hard, orders himself a drink, for courage he tells himself, then orders a room for himself. He leaves for Bowerstone the next day.

When Sparrow crosses the bridge, he remembers it all. Of meeting the bard when he first began this quest, of the first time he brought Alex there, of when Rose Louise was born. He's fairly confident he can find his way to his house and at last he feels a sense of belonging. He knows this place, he knows these streets, for the first time since he escaped the Spire, he doesn't feel lost. His family is here and he's going to see them again.

_This is home._


	9. Begin Again

**Author's Note: **I don't really need to say it, do I? Updating me = rubbish. I can't even say college took over, this time it was Dragon Age 2. If nothing else, it has sparked _something _that's made me want to write, and write often at that. So take advantage while I've got it, plus my summer holiday from college is coming up so I'll have a hell of a lot more time.  
As always, a massive thank you to everyone who's faved and alerted this story. I'm amazed by the positive feedback it's received and so grateful to those who have taken the time to review/fave/alert. Thank you, I really, really mean that :)

Constructive criticism appreciated as always.  
This theme: Beginnings.

* * *

**Begin Again**

When he was eight years old, Sparrow died. When he woke up, he wished he were still dead and he felt as if his world had ended.

Rose was gone, taken by Lucien. He now had a dog, a bed, someone to look after him, but no Rose. All the things that Rose wanted for him, but she isn't there to share it with him. Knowing that, he doesn't want any of it.

He spends his days, once he's finally let out of bed, crying, avoiding everyone. He doesn't want to know what anyone does, doesn't want to know where he is, who any of these people are in this camp. He just wants his sister. His only companion is the dog and it can only do so much in terms of comfort. Still, he'll take comfort where it's offered, and if the dog doesn't mind him sobbing into its fur, then that's what he'll do.

_He's alone. _He's alone in the world and it's Lucien's fault.

The gypsies he's living with pack up camp and leave Bowerstone, heading for Rookridge. For the most part, Sparrow is confined to a cart since he's not in any fit state to be doing all that much. It drives him insane, he's always hated being stuck anywhere, always preferred to be roaming the streets with Rose.

He still avoids them, even when they stop. He doesn't want a new family, he wants his old family and this is how it stays for the years to come.

He's beginning to cope, beginning to learn to function again. He's accepted he's alive, accepted that he's survived that night, accepted that Rose is gone. It takes him a while, but he learns to accept the people in the camp too. The years go on and he begins to see them as the only family left, the only ones in the world that care for him. Besides his dog. The dog has remained at his side all this time, always there, always ready to offer comfort or cheer him up on the hard days when he can't cope. When he can't accept everything and wants it all back to the way it was.

He's older now, not a child but not yet a man. He has responsibilities around the camp, duties to perform now that he's recovered from _that night_. He still dreams of it. The gunshot wound is _still there, _a blazing reminder. He still hears Rose's scream, feels the impact of the bullet when it pounds into him, sends him flying through the air. He keeps his mouth shut, puts a smile on his face despite knowing that the camp have no doubt heard him awakening with a scream himself. They're used to it, no longer come running, thinking he's been attacked.

Theresa visits him, checks in on how he's doing, asks what he's been doing around the camp. She leaves without a word, no one knows when she'll be back or for how long, they only know she'll return. He's sorry to see her go, he's got used to her presence, the familiarity of it. She's the only thing that reminds him of Bowerstone.

When she returns is anyone's guess, but he still looks forward to the times she does.

It's been ten years since _that night _and beyond the lingering nightmare, the scars, Sparrow has recovered.

The gypsy camp is travelling back to Bower Lake, Theresa with them. He doesn't know how to feel about that, ten years since he's been anywhere near Bowerstone. Will it have changed? He's already made up his mind that he'll go back, satisfy his curiosity.

He meets with Theresa, finds the items she's left for him outside his trailer. He frowns when he finds them. An old sword, a crossbow. While he has been learning to fight over the years at her insistence, he wonders just what she's planning. He does as he's told, as always, takes the sword, the crossbow and meets her at the camp gates. She gives him something else, a Guild Seal, she calls it, tells him to open the tomb in the middle of Bower Lake. He doesn't know where all this is going.

Inside the tomb is the ruins of the Hero's Guild. Heroes...He hasn't heard that since _that night_, when Lucien told he and Rose that they were descended from Heroes. Theresa has told him this is the only reason he survived, due to his bloodline. He doesn't like that, them. Heroes have never been thought of fondly over the centuries, for Sparrow, they're one of the reasons Rose died. He trusts Theresa and when she tells him that he is the fourth Hero, the one who will defeat Lucien, he follows her orders to the letter.

Finally, he has a chance to avenge Rose. _Finally _he has a purpose. At eight years old, Sparrow died. At eighteen years old, his life began again, as that of a Hero.


	10. How?

**Author's Note:**I haven't abandoned this, I just haven't played Fable in a very long time now. Other Half however has begun playing it and this is what sparked this idea. So the updating shall be sporadic at best, at worst the same as it has been since I posted it. I am always grateful to my readers and reviewers, the people who have faved and added this story to their alerts. I'm just sorry that I'm so sucky at updating and leaving everyone hanging.

Constructive criticism is always appreciated.  
This theme: How?

* * *

**How**

Once upon a time, there was a Selfish Man. Once upon a time, he was a Hero. One day, the Selfish Man was given a choice, to do the heroic thing or not. The Selfish Man made the wrong choice and proved to many that he was only human and not above such choices and feelings because he was a Hero. After this, many people could only ask one thing: How?

How could _you_ make such a choice?

How could you choose _them_?

How can you live with yourself?

How can you be so _selfish_?

The Selfish Man had no answers, he could only shrug helplessly and apologize a thousand times over. The apologies kept coming, but the people the Selfish Man had left for dead with his selfish choice, would not come back.

Every day the Selfish Man tried to atone for his choice, for his wrongdoing. He worked and returned people from slave camps, yet the people they wanted him to return, he could not. So the Selfish Man continued to work and toil, continuing what he saw as his atonement. Despite this, no one could forgive him and still could only ask _how._

How can you go on like this?

How long before you drop from exhaustion?

How long before you stop punishing yourself?

How long will it take you to realise it wasn't you who killed those people, but Lucien?

But it was, the Selfish Man argued. He had the choice to bring them back, to condemn himself to suffering, to losing everyone and everything and he couldn't do it. He condemned them to death. He was selfish and he couldn't blame them for being so angry with him, for blaming him and considering him the reason for their suffering, their grief.

Over time, only this was being asked.

How long will they keep being angry?

How long before the grief fades?

How can they blame you?

And still no answers came, only more apologies and atonement. The Selfish Man lived in his own suffering, never telling anyone what had happened at The Spire nor Hero Hill, keeping this to himself. He took everyone's blame and grief and anger on his shoulders and wished he could take it away completely. He was selfish and he saw the signs of it all around Bowerstone, the angry people, the unhappy people, the people in mourning and those trying to get on with their lives with people missing in it. He too had someone missing even now. The Selfish Man chose Love over being a Hero and the people could only ask _How._

How do you know _she's_ alive?

How do you know it brought _her _back?

How do you know it wasn't just us that were brought back?

_I just do_, the Selfish Man told them. And he did. He knew _she _had returned, he had the letter kept safe, waiting for _her _to come back. _She _was one of the reasons for his selfish choice and because of that, if he were really honest, he couldn't regret it.


	11. Family

******  
**This theme: Family  
Constructive criticism appreciated as always

* * *

**Family**

His family were gone.

He had decided to be selfless, ever the hero, never giving a thought to his own wants and needs. Hammer said he had more strength than she ever would. Yet looking at his empty home with blood covered walls, so silent and dead, it seemed a hollow victory.

At first, Sparrow couldn't even enter the house. It was their home, his and Alex and Rose Louise. It wasn't home any more. It was a house, an empty house at the end of the street that he happened to own. Every day he stood at the front door, would push it open then turn away and run. Sometimes, he liked to imagine his dog was there with him, running beside him. The dog was dead, his family was dead. Everyone was dead. Everyone he cared about, everyone who had died in the Spire returned. Everyone but the people he loved.

He stood at the house, his house. The bloodstains that covered the walls were now long dried in, forever ingrained into the wood. The bodies of his wife and daughter had been buried by the people of Bowerstone, their locations passed onto him along with the note of thanks. Fat lot of good that did, his family was gone and all he received was a thank you note and a statue. Another bloody statue to go with the rest of them of the great Hero.

He wondered how they felt. Rose Louise, no doubt terrified when Lucien barged his way in. Was she killed first, or was it her mother? Alex would've fought, he knew that much. His beautiful spirited wife. He stood in the house, torturing himself with thoughts of his family's last few moments. Did they think of him? Wondere where he was? Why he wasn't there to protect them? He protected everyone else, why wasn't he there for them?

Why?

"I'll tell you why," he said to the house. "Because I'm a fool. I've spent the last thirteen years, fighting to avenge my sister and I was a fool. My only chance to bring her back, to bring you back, I passed it up to be a Hero." He felt the tears brim in the corners of his eyes. "I'm a bloody Hero. That's why. That's what's expected of me! That's what a Hero does! That's what..." Whatever remained of his tirade was cut off by sobs.

He was a Hero and his family was gone. Such was the price that being a Hero required of him.


End file.
